Snowflakes
by hopeful-canyon
Summary: ONESHOT POSTBABY JOE. Luka must relive some memories he's abandoned for a long time. Will he be able to accept the past and move on for real this time?


**Okay, so I have always wanted to know more about Luka's past, so I decided to write my own version of things. I'm sorry if the Croatian translations aren't correct, I used a beta translator. So please, review and let me know what you think…**

**I don't own ER or the characters or anything.**

The snow fell softly, lingering in the air romantically before landing gracefully on the cold metal of parked cars, on the hard, unforgiving sidewalk or on the dark, warm wool of coats belonging to passers-by oblivious to the beauty of their surroundings. Luka Kovac sat in his bright, heated living room facing the huge curtain-less window. His baby Joe was sleeping peacefully in his room, and Abby was at the hospital until 4 in the morning. He sat on the worn couch and watched each unique snowflake fall, appearing almost out of nowhere. The slow, steady fall of the miniscule dots hypnotized Luka, pulling him into a daze of the past.

Winter was breath taking in Croatia. His favourite time of year. His children's favourite season as well, even though they had experienced far too few winters. Jasna would wear her beloved pink mittens, knitted specially for her by her grandmother. Marko could barely walk, he was bundled up so much. Luka would grab him, fling the door open and the three would step outside, not returning until hours had passed, making snowmen and tasting snowflakes with tongues. Luka didn't mind taking the kids off Danijela's hands for a while. Since his internship, she had spent most of the time with the kids. His children didn't mind too much. They were proud to have a doctor for a father.

As Luka sunk into the cushions, one particular memory came to him. It had been a rough night. He had lost two patients, and was feeling discouraged. He came home, and went to bed without whispering good night to his wife as was his routine. He was awakened a few hours later by Marko pulling on his arm, pleading for his father to take him outside. He had even managed to drag Luka's heavy leather jack all the way to the bedroom with him. As he scooped the little boy up in his arms, troubles of the night before erased from his mind, Luka remembered thinking he was truly blessed.

Then, there was the time when Danijela had caught the flu. Luka, deciding it was best to give his wife some quiet, had packed the kids up and taken the train to Zagreb to visit their grandfather. It wasn't often Luka or his kids got to see his father, and riding the train was a rare treat. The kids had been so excited, eyes wide with amazement the entire journey. Luka himself had been amazed; amazed at the simple joys of childhood, and had laughed along with them. When they arrived at the station in Zagreb, Luka held the hand of his daughter in one hand, the soft, baby-skinned hand of his son's in the other, careful not to lose their grasp in the throng of people. Upon arriving at his widowed father's apartment, Luka grinned as the children embraced the older man. Since his wife had passed away a year ago, he had begun to appreciate the company of his remaining family increasingly. When it was time to go, Jasna begged her father for another fifteen minutes before they left, while Marko slept soundly in the haven of his father's strong arms.

Luka had zipped his daughter's jacket and slipped on Marko's boots, kissed his father's cheek, and reassured the old man that they would see him again soon.

Luka slipped off the couch and looked at the time. It was midnight. It wasn't often that Luka let himself relive his memories. He stepped into the nursery and watched as Joe slept. He watched his little tummy go up and down as he breathed. Luka gently fingered his son's cheeks, his nose, and his soft downy hair, careful not to wake the baby.

"Volim te, moj dijete."

Sometimes Luka had trouble believing that this was a real live baby, that this was his son. It took a moment like this for him register that he was a father once again. He had been given a second chance. As he tiptoed out of the room, he whispered a nursery rhyme his mother had sang to him years ago.

"Zamisliti lijep predmet, moj mio dijete, zamisliti sve sretan. našto te razbuditi , svi htijenje biti kvalitetno, na taj način san moj dijete , san daleko"

The edges had been rounded, and it was starting to crease. There had been a time when this had been the only thing that got Luka through the day, and even then, just barely. It was the picture of his wife and daughter. It was the only thing he had been able to salvage from their destroyed apartment. He had no picture of Marko. Danijela was beautiful, smiling into the hair of the young girl sitting in her lap, who was also smiling brightly. The sun was behind the pair, illuminating their skin perfectly. Ever since he had come to America, Luka hadn't looked at the picture very often, trying to start a new life in a new country, trying not to dwell on the past. But there had been rough nights where he had allowed himself to stare into the paper, to kiss the cheeks of his two favourite girls. He kept the picture in his wallet, like most men did, but he didn't show them off, didn't insist on all acquaintances admiring his beautiful family. Whenever he opened his wallet for anything, he artfully ignored the picture, not wanting to break down in the middle of a transaction at the store. Or worse, have someone ask him how old she was. What would he say to that? 3 years old in the picture, or 18, the age she would be right now if she were alive?

Luka studied the face of his wife. As he sat on the unmade bed, his wedding day suddenly appeared to him. Danijela was walking down the aisle towards him, wearing the simple white dress she had made herself. Her youthful happiness radiated throughout her skin, and spread to the smiles of all the guests. The small church was filled with family and close friends. Nobody had opposed the wedding of the young couple. Everyone had trusted the judgements of the smart, happy and lovesick pair. They said their vows, dreaming of the life ahead of them. They both wanted big families. They planned to live in Vukovar while Luka did his internship, and then move back to Zagreb. That evening, after the small reception, Luka and his bride walked, hand in hand, to his apartment, laughing about the wardrobe choices of the old aunts, about the uncle who had gotten drunk. Luka carried his bride up the stairs and through the doorway. He had been so nervous, but knew Danijela was even more nervous than he was. They had both agreed they wanted to wait. The next morning, waking up beside the warm body of his soulmate, Luka knew as long as he had Danijela, he could never be unhappy.

When Luka and Danijela found out a year later that she was pregnant, they were ecstatic. Even though she was young, it was something they both wanted. When Luka first held his daughter, it was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He loved her in a way words could not express.

Luka smiled slightly to himself, remembering how Jasna's cheeks were always pink, when he was suddenly flooded with images he did not enjoy at all. The night they all died. He remembered Danijela's desperate, fearful voice as she pleaded with Luka, wanting to escape the dangers of the war-ridden city. Luka had insisted they would be all right, his career was on the line, they couldn't leave now. He would go out and buy supplies, everything would be fine. When they heard that their father was going outside, the children begged him to take them with him outside. He told them no firmly, lifting Marko into his crib and tucking him in before walking away.

"Daddy, sing to me! You forgot to sing to me!"

"Not now Marko, go to sleep."

"But daddy!"

Jasna gripped her father's leg playfully, stalling him from leaving.

"Jasna, not now. I have to go."

As he paid for his things, Luka kept glancing at his apartment's window. Was it fair for the whole family to be put on the line for him? He and Danijela would discuss things further, they would compromise and everything would work out.

Luka slipped his wallet in his pocket and grabbed his bags, and when he looked back up, he saw his apartment explode. He dropped the bags and ran towards it, yelling for his wife. He saw his neighbours, hurt, but ran past them. He heard Danijela's voice, calling for him. He burst through the debris blocking the doorway, and stumbled right into Marko's room. The child was already gone. He made his way to his wife, and she handed him Jasna. Both were injured. As he performed CPR on Jasna, he watched his wife slip away. He could have taken her to the hospital immediately, she may have had a chance, but his daughter was lying so helplessly, and Luka couldn't part with her, couldn't leaver her to die by herself. Soon she was all he had left, and he had to let her go to. All were gone now, leaving Luka by himself.

Luka heard crying coming from the nursery. He pocketed the picture and stepped into the room.

"Shhhhhh, it's okay," Luka soothed, lifting Joe out of the crib. He rocked the baby for a bit, and even once he had calmed down, he remained sitting in the rocking chair. The warmth and comfort of the child was enough to make Luka feel like his old self, back before war or pain had entered his life. He had his life back, but it was new. It involved Abby and Joe, but it could still involve Danijela and Jasna and Marko, if he really wanted it to. Part of involving them in his life was to let them go, something he thought he had done years ago, but clearly he hadn't been.

"Joe, how would you like to see a picture of your big sister? That's her right there. She loves you very much. You also have a big brother."

A little while later, Abby came home from the hospital to find father and son sitting together in the nursery.

"How was your shift?" asked Luka as Abby opened the door.

"Not bad. What's wrong? Was it a bad night? Is he sick or something?"

"Joe was fine. I just couldn't sleep. I wanted to wait up for you."

"Well, I'm going to bed."

"I'll see you in the morning, good night."

"Goodnight," replied Abby, kissing Luka.

"Hey, Abby?"

"Yeah?"

"I just want you to know-I'm really happy."

"Me too," smiled Abby.


End file.
